


Better Left Unsaid

by monanotlisa



Category: Fringe
Genre: Amberverse, Character of Color, Consent Issues due to Misidentitfication, Doppelganger, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, F/F, Female Character of Color, Female-Centric, Let's Get Astrid Laid, POV Female Character, Porn Battle, Season/Series 03, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything You Always Wanted To Know About An Amber-Coloured Season Three (But Were Afraid To Ask).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Conceptual dub-con (same as canon); some kink.

Walter Bishop, she thought, was easy. Not easy to handle, for sure -- although she was getting better at it by the day -- but easy enough to fool. For all his brilliance, he lived in his own head most of the time; the cues he was waiting for from the world outside didn't need to be nuanced. They just needed to be not entirely wrong, and strong. For the latter, food helped. Liv was experimenting with _éclairs_ at the moment; they were pretty promising.

This Astrid Farnsworth, though, was less simply led. In part because she was so different from Liv's own, both brain and heart. Soft eyes on that woman, but her gaze cut sharp. Liv hadn't seen her with the other Olivia, but she bet Astrid hadn't given her double those long, questioning looks, a tiny frown marring that perfect skin. Astrid probably hadn't stood quite that close to her either, with sideways glances at the topmost button on Liv's blouse that kept coming undone in ways the other Olivia would not permit, and who the hell wore blouses to Fringe events, anyway?

Quiet suspicions she probably could've lived with, no pun intended.

But one morning, Walter was expanding his scavenger-hunt scribblings on the lab board, and Liv was playing connect-the-dots with him. The location of both tab A and slot B of the Machine remained a mystery that needed to be solved and soon. Of course Liv did everything she could to get there (and get back again; back home).

Astrid came in with coffee for all of them: decaf for Walter (for obvious reasons), a dark-roasted mocha for Liv, and damn if she didn't love Astrid just a little for bringing her black heaven in a paper cup -- handing it to Liv, eyes wide and smile sweeter than the coffee itself. "It's nice of you to help Walter like that." Astrid peered half over her shoulder at the board. "Edina, New York; that's really where the next piece is? You know, I've never really believed in coincidences, Olivia."

There were fifteen potential locations on the board. What was it about this one? Liv wracked her brain for one endless half-second, thought back to long evenings of scrolling down case-file after case-file. _Edina -- of course_. "Perhaps our very special friends there only settled in the place because some property of the piece drew them there? Could explain it, all science and logic for you."

Astrid laughed, looked down, and seemed relieved beyond what the situation called for.

Close, that's what this call was. Liv needed to act, fast (if not too fast). People with the kind of focus Astrid had were difficult to distract from perceived inconsistencies and mismatches; Liv didn't think words would help. But there was something else about the other Olivia's Junior Agent that might, judging from the way Astrid regarded her. Liv generally knew how others ticked. Not like this distraction would be so unusual, either: two people, in the workplace; feelings develop.

If not too many, hopefully. Liv didn't want to break this Astrid's heart. She didn't want to do this at all, but the alternatives were all-around less desirable. She remembered the Secretary's briefing and Brandon Fayette's eyes, animated where his voice remained flat throughout his suggestions of dealing with the denizens of this side.

Liv was killing only with kindness here.

The plans Liv had pondered for seduction (a girls' night out ending up a girls' night in; the classic dinner and a movie...and a move; even a bottle of that dreaded whiskey to share) needed to be abandoned quickly because her first step took her more than just across the threshold. When Liv went out of her way one night to take Astrid home and, instead of just nodding a curt good-night from the passenger seat, ran a light finger across the back of Astrid's hand while she unbuckled, and gave her a smile as wicked as she actually was, Astrid blinked at Liv's hand for one single heartbeat before looking up, into her eyes, to say, quietly, "Olivia, do you want to come inside?"

Turned out the answer was yes. _Yes, please_ , for the most part.

Liv hadn't consciously considered how it would be with a woman, but her subconscious had still installed a lot of soft-focus cameras and played even softer rock in endless loops in the background. Now, with Astrid? The woman might be a domestic little goddess making her own jams; she was just also the kind of girl to slather the peach one on Liv's right nipple and the rhubarb-strawberry on the left one, then clean them both thoroughly with a hint teeth that made Liv sigh and shiver and nudge Astrid down, down, down. Astrid had dexterous fingers, but to see them handling a bunsen burner in the lab was not the same as feeling them inside her, finely tuned and tuning her, Liv, even finer, letting her moans reaching just the right pitch before stopping, stretching out Liv's pleasure like saltwater taffy only to start again so, so slowly. Or after that bathing session in the tub that prevented Liv from ever looking at a rubber ducky without blushing, being tumbled onto her belly and spread wide open, learning what else Astrid's tongue could do to her until she was sobbing into the pillows (that were, indeed, pink and soft).

Of course Liv couldn't let Astrid think she was doing this for anything but their mutual enjoyment. Liv couldn't let Astrid think. And there were really no other ways but going for it -- all of it. Liv had always been called _bright_ and _talented_ ; of herself she'd always known she was ambitious. There wasn't a medal in this, but there were Astrid's moans, helpless and desperate and irresistible to someone like Liv, who wanted to be not just good but great and have fun while getting there. And she had. Discreet though they were, there were days when the taste of Astrid on her palate never quite dissipated, and Liv found she liked that. She had always been a natural in bed, giving and receiving with interest in more than one way; that Astrid first trembled under Liv's mouth and hands and finally drifted off so sweetly was not only the goal of the whole exercise: it was fully expected.

Even her own desire could be dealt with. Liv had little trouble laying new roads (that were more like highways, like freeways) into the landscape of her own sexuality. But these nights especially it wasn't easy for Liv to keep herself from whispering to this Astrid Farnsworth after she'd fallen asleep words that weren't empty endearments and full-of-promise pleas. There were fragments of phrases on the tip of Liv's tongue that Astrid, were this a different kind of world, would understand and accept: _sorry_ and _mission_ and, _stay_.

But it wasn't, and Liv couldn't. All she could do was what she had to to save her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I tend to be in a Collect Them All! mood when it comes to Porn Battle prompts: _cocky, yearning, challenge, touch, simple, patience, surprise, test, hide, pass, skin_.
> 
> Thanks to Sam Johnsson for beta!
> 
> (Original entry for _Lucky Thirteen_ can be found [here](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/46205.html?thread=7422333#cmt7422333).)


End file.
